


C is for Cat

by ioanite



Category: Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: Alphabet Soup Challenge, Challenge Response, Gen, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:59:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioanite/pseuds/ioanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horatio has more than the French to worry about...</p>
            </blockquote>





	C is for Cat

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Lokei's Horatio Hornblower Alphabet Soup Challenge. I got C, the letter I really wanted, and as a result, I went a little...overboard.

Horatio entered his cabin and brushed his hair from his eyes, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal before he attended to business. The _Sutherland_ had just encountered a French ship, and after a short but intense battle, their quarry had slipped away, nursing several gaping holes in her side. Horatio thought it best to write a report to the Admiralty as soon as possible.

His breathing steady, he turned towards his desk…only to groan in frustration. Splayed across the desk, right over his papers, was the latest thorn in his side. It was about four feet long, covered in brown fur, and went by the name of Boney. The crew had named him ironically, thinking it would be amusing to imagine the so-called emperor of France chasing after mice. Staring at the cat now insolently washing himself, Horatio thought the name was completely appropriate; the cat could be almost as bad as the man he was named for.

“Get off my desk!” He commanded, pointing at the floor. Boney looked down at the floor, up at Horatio, then returned to washing himself. Horatio put a hand to his head and took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

Up until now, he’d never served with a cat. The _Indefatigable_ hadn’t had much of a rat problem, and he’d never felt any great need to have a cat on board once he’d gained command of a ship. But then one of his men had come aboard with a small ball of fur, claiming that his mother’s cat had just had kittens and that he wanted to give this one a good home. The little flea-bag had wormed his way into the crew’s hearts, and Horatio realized he’d have a mutiny on his hands if he put his foot down and refused to keep the cat. So he grudgingly let it stay. Boney had seized this victory as an excuse to torment Horatio whenever possible, safe in the knowledge that most of the crew loved him.

Now, watching Boney make a mess of his desk, Horatio considered his options. He could sit down and demand Boney leave, but Boney would probably just climb into his lap and cause even _more_ trouble. He could pick up the cat bodily and hurl it from the room, but he’d tried that once and nearly lost an arm. He could tip over his desk, but that would just break his inkpot and God knows what else. That meant there was only one other option.

Horatio sighed and shot a black look at Boney, who acknowledged it with a purr and stood up so he could wash his back. Horatio stalked over to the door that led to the galley and yanked it open. “Polwheal!” he roared down the hall, “would you please come in here and deal with this pest!”

When Polwheal arrived three minutes later, Boney had returned to laying on the desk, washing his belly. Polwheal looked from Horatio to Boney, clearly trying to keep a straight face. “Cat giving you trouble again, sir?”

“Yes,” Horatio answered curtly, “Please get him off my desk so I can work.”

“Thing is, sir…” Polwheal said hesitantly, “Our meat supply is running low. If I’m to tempt him off with a piece of meat, it’ll have to come from your ration.”

“ _My_ ration?” Horatio repeated, “Why mine?”

“Permission to speak freely?”

“Granted.”

“In all honesty, sir, it would cause grumblings from the men if I took food out of their mouths to feed the cat. It’s safer for morale if I do it this way.”

Horatio clenched his fists and counted to ten. “Very well, Polwheal. Just be quick about it!”

Polwheal saluted and disappeared back down the corridor. Horatio glared back at Boney and reflected on the unfairness of it all. The men would complain if he took food from them to feed the cat, but tonight, they’d freely give him tidbits from their plates if he wound around their ankles and mewed at them. The cat was held in higher esteem than _he_ was.

Striding over to his desk, ready to reclaim it the moment Boney vacated it, he looked the cat straight in its golden eyes. “I hate you.” Boney stuck out his tongue and held it there while he brought his paw up to continue washing, and Horatio knew the cat had just stated that the feeling was mutual.

Polwheal returned with a saucer. “Here, Boney,” he called softly, setting the saucer down, “Look what I’ve got for you.”

Boney stood up and stretched lazily, mooning Horatio as he did so, then jumped from the desk and trotted over to the saucer. “Get him out of here once he’s finished,” Horatio snapped, sitting down at the desk, “I don’t need him sitting on top of my report to the Admiralty.”

Polwheal said nothing, but when Horatio heard the door close a minute later, he looked around the room and saw no sign of the fuzzy menace. Sighing with relief, he turned to write the report. He had to discard one piece of paper on the grounds that it was covered in cat fur, but otherwise the writing went smoothly. When he was finished, he leaned back in his chair and wondered if it would be possible to get the cat into France and into the Emperor’s court. France would fall in a matter of weeks if the two Boneys were busy fighting with each other. Shaking his head to clear it of that pleasant fantasy, he put the report away for safekeeping. Boney had already made it difficult to write the report; he wasn’t about to let him chew it to ribbons, too.


End file.
